Revealing the Truth
by enterwithalohamora
Summary: Both John and Sherlock have barely spoken a word to each other. Will John be able to forgive Sherlock? Will Sherlock finally speak up about what has been on his mind? Slash, the best kind. Series two Spoilers.
1. First Embrace

**Disclaimer: **I (unfortunately) do not own 'Sherlock'. All rights reserved for the original Author _Sir Arthur Conan Doyle _and for BBC bringing us their own incarnation of our characters we write about from 'Sherlock' BBC Original.

(Disclaimer applies as well to all future chapters.)

**Warnings:** Story takes place after Series II of 'Sherlock' BBC Original, so it will includes spoilers. It is rated M for sexual content (M/M) in later chapters, so if that's not your thing, you may want to read elsewhere.

**Authors Note: **This is my first ever attempt at a fanfic. I Just couldn't help myself. Un Beta'd and Un'Britpicked. Reviews are welcomed! Please bear with me and last but least least enjoy!

* * *

><p>John woke up startled by the usual playings of his flatmates violin in the other room. It was a beautiful summer night. John could feel the breeze coming in from the window. This wasn't easy for him, Sherlock had just gotten back not more than a week ago. Yet neither of them said more than a couple of words to each other. Sherlock kept quiet out of guilt and John didn't say much out of anger, betrayal and uncertainty. It had been three years since Sherlock had died or at least John thought that he had died. Blimey, he had seen him jump off the roof with his own bloody eyes.<p>

"_That Arsehole made me believe he was dead!" _John thought to himself. Even so, John _knew_ the pain Sherlock felt through each heartbroken note that filled the quiet night air. He sat up taking hold of his alarm clock with one hand to look at the time that it displayed all whilst running his fingers through his sandy blond hair.

"_Enough was enough!"_ John thought as he got up out of bed, he looked for his robe but couldn't find it. Irritated, he abandoned the search for the robe and stormed out his room. He walked with his head down to the kitchen to set a kettle of water for some tea.

"You're still upset?"Sherlock asked John as he brought his playing to an end, he fussed the bow in between his fingers waiting for Johns response,_ "I'm sorry, John, but I couldn't let you get hurt." _He thought quietly.

"Are you BLOODY SERIOUS? You're seriously going to ask me that question?" John shouted, slamming his favorite teacup on the counter making it shatter almost instantly.

Sherlock winced at the sight of blood streaming down his friend's hand, but knew all too well he should stay in place.

Muttering curse words under his breath John threw the rest of the tea and kettle in sink. The sound of the kettle hitting the metal echoed in their quiet flat.

Leaning against the counter John spoke softly "How could you . . Why. .didn't . .you. . know." he stammered against his own tongue. Each word took endless agonizing effort, not knowing how long he could fight back his tears. " . . .how it would affect me. . I almost . . I almost didn't make it, Sherlock. . .I. ." giving into his pain, John leaned forward into the sink. Muffled sobs poured out as he covered his mouth with his unwounded hand.

Frozen, Sherlock stood quietly with one bow in one hand and his violin in the other. He stood watching his best friend cry over him. _Why. . why John. Why do you shed tears that I do not deserve, Your tears . . for me. _It was torture watching John cry, nonetheless, Sherlock didn't look away. He wanted to comfort John, to hold him, to whisper sweet beautiful nothings in his ear. To make those painful memories go away. Make this go away. The scene that was playing right in front of him. He carefully laid his violin and bow on the chair and grabbed some bandages that John always left out. Sherlock stepped quietly to his best friends' right side.

"John. ., " he spoke with the most exquisite softness grabbing John right hand, "I would _never _want anything happen to you. To _my_ John, my _dear_ John." He continued to speak softly while gently wrapping John's hand.

John's sobbing became almost inaudible when Sherlock spoke. As much as he was angry, Sherlock's voice soothed him. Sherlock's touch made him feel safe. A sigh of relief left his body, _"good, I hadn't made physical contact. I was almost thinking I was going mad." _John thought to himself. He looked up and was caught by Sherlock's eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that saw everything.

"I _had _too John and I did think. I just didn't think it would affect you _this_ much. I mean John you're at least 20 pounds lighter. Still fit of course apparently from not sleeping? It seems that your insomnia has come back and with all that extra time you decide you want to keep fit? No keep busy. Especially when you say that your psychosomatic limp came back . Not only that but your anger has worsened." He stated lifting his now bandaged hand, "and no John you're not going _mad_ I am real. . " Sherlock brought John's hand to his chest against his heart, "I am _real_ and I swear I am not goin-"

"Sherlock." John spoke quietly cutting him off.

"Yes?" Sherlock spoke still holding John's hand gently close to him.

"I was never upset at the fact you lied," John looked away from Sherlock's stare and back down at the sink. "Hmm. . " was the response John got to his statement. He knew it was Sherlock's way of letting him know he was listening. So he continued, "I was upset at the fact you waited three bloody years to come back."

"John. . " Sherlock spoke in a stern voice. He opened his voice to continue but John turned around quickly to let him know he wasn't finished yet. So he closed his mouth and nodded.

"Nothing. Nothing Sherlock. Nothing even a message. No! Don't give me that 'I had important business' look because what could be more important?" John's eyes began to get watery again.

Sherlock opened his mouth but waited a few seconds to see if John was going to cut him off again. Once he saw that he was 'allowed' to speak he continued. "Your life."

"Excuse me?"

"Your life John. Your life was, no _is_ more important." Sherlock leaned forward feeling the heat radiate from John. He felt his pulse in John's right hand race against his own, "My _important business_ was making sure _your _life was safe."

John was breathing heavily. He was nervous, this was the first time he was standing so close to Sherlock. John was intoxicated with his smell. He knew he could stand here all night, weeks even. Not sleeping, eating, moving. Just standing here. Taking Sherlock in. "but three years?" he spoke in almost a whisper, only Sherlock could hear him, "they were hell without you" John buried himself flatmates arms.

"For you and me**: **both." Sherlock grinned as he wrapped his arms around John.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright for a first chapter right? I wanted to go on, to make Sherlock wait for that Embrace, but John didn't let me. Gosh. Just like any other writer. I don't write the stories. They write them selves. I hope you enjoyed! remember Reviews welcome :)<strong>

**-Ron**

**Re-edited. Thanks to Kr-NL for helping me. You should go read her fanfic "Unravelling Sherlock" best fic by far. Follows and reviews are welcome :)**

**-Ron**


	2. Time

**Disclaimer: **I (unfortunately) do not own 'Sherlock'. All rights reserved for the original Author _Sir Arthur Conan Doyle _and for BBC bringing us their own incarnation of our characters we write about from 'Sherlock' BBC Original.

(Disclaimer applies as well to all future chapters.)

**Warnings:**Story takes place after Series II of 'Sherlock' BBC Original, so it will includes spoilers. It is rated M for sexual content (M/M) in later chapters, so if that's not your thing, you may want to read elsewhere.

**Authors Note: **This is my first ever attempt at a fanfic. I Just couldn't help myself. Un Beta'd and Un'Britpicked. Reviews are welcomed! Please bear with me and last but least least enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sherlock walked John to the couch to explain everything. Just as Sherlock was going to sit down John beat him to the punch, sitting down on the edge motioning Sherlock with his right hand to come sit next to him. Compliantly, Sherlock walked over and laid down placing his head on top of John's lap.<p>

"I meant _sit_ next to me. . " John said as he hung his head while shaking his head to hide his smile. "_same ol'sherlock." _John thought to himself.

"Would you like me to move?" Sherlock ask genuinely, "I could sit. I ju-"

"It's _fine_ Sherlock." John spoke so softly that Sherlock barely heard, "It's fine. ," he let out a second time patting him his head in the most reassuring way.

They sat in silence after for some time. Sherlock had told John that when he was ready to know he would speak, but _only_ then. He didn't want to force John into doing anything, _especially_after what he put John through. After some time passed John let him know he was ready. Sherlock simply answered with a nod.

He began talking to John, explaining everything that had happened. From the moment that John had left Bart's till the moment that he came back. Telling John about the the three men sent out to kill him, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. How Sherlock found a way to keep them alive by making sure Moriarty stayed safe. He continued explaining how Moriarty shot himself just to prove that he was going to make sure Sherlock jumped. As well as how Moriarty failed to spot Molly as a important person. Even about how he has asked Mycroft to keep an eye for John. Seeing the disgusted face that Sherlock made at just the mention of his brothers name made John chuckle.

"_He still loathes him, even now. That's Sherlock for you_." John thought to himself.

Every now and then as Sherlock spoke, John would let out a _mmhmm's_ and _ah_ just to signal to Sherlock that he was still listening.

John moved some of his curls that had fallen on Sherlock's face. He had finally gotten the courage to get over his anger. He didn't want anything blocking his view of Sherlock. Even though Sherlock has been home for a little over a week John hadn't been able to look at Sherlock without wanting to beat him to a pulp.

That was enough of a reason to make sure John avoided Sherlock in every which possible. He didn't want to make the mistake and looking at Sherlock, more so, to be looked at with the beautiful blue sad eyes.

Those eyes that held so much guilt, so much _pain.  
><em>  
>So during all that time, John made sure he avoided him and kept himself busy. Even with all the extra hours he put in at the clinic, John felt like he had too much free time. Then he would take over more cases at the clinic and he would feel overwhelmed, it would begin to seem as if he didn't have enough time to help them all.<p>

Time. Never enough or always too much. Time was all John wanted. When Sherlock was _dead_, he wanted to talk to him face to face. He wanted Sherlock back. Time had stolen his best mate from him. Which in the end had stolen time from John to live. John clenched his jaw together as he sat there running his hands through Sherlocks' curls.

Then there was too much time, too much time apart. Three years; 36 months. John lived those months alone. Each day passing he felt as if more and more of him was withering away. In those days, too much time had passed and John knew his time was cutting short.

Then out of nowhere, Sherlock came back and this was too much for John. Too much too take in, too much in so little time. Sherlock wanted him to not be mad, but John had _too little_ time to cope with his hurt and betrayal. He let out a soft chuckle, because presently he felt like he wanted all the time with Sherlock.

His feelings with time were almost bipolar, he was going mad. He was sure of it. John looked down at Sherlock and bit his lip. He fought back more tears, Sherlock was back, it seemed too good to be true. Could he trust it, time that is, could he trust that he _could_ have all the lost time with Sherlock back? The time that was stolen from him.

"John?" Sherlock let out softly knocking John back into reality. He forgot how tranquil Sherlocks voice was. How easy it was for him to daze out.

Sherlock tilted his head giving him a quizzical look. John didn't realize that he had stopped listening to Sherlock. He had stopped caring about all that worthless trivial stuff. What mattered now was that Sherlock was here. Laying down on his lap. He felt Sherlock's heart beating under his right bandaged hand while running his left and through Sherlocks dark beautiful curls. He thought to himself, "_Breathing, Real, Alive. . .Alive, right here on my lap. Alive. . ." _he grinned, _"Time to live again."_

"Hmm. . " was all John said as he continued to stroke Sherlocks curls.

"I'm sorry, I truly am. I didn't realize how muc-"

"Sherlock shut up. I don't want to talk about this anymore." John let out in annoyance.

Sherlock looked up hurt and confused. He wanted to explain everything to John. He wanted to tell John more, not just about why he left. But what he had learned about himself while he was out of John's life, everything he learned, John _needed_ to know. Yet how could he let him know?

"Oh don't give me that look Sherlock. I didn't mean it that way. I meant I don't care"

"Oh. . . and how is that supposed to be a better explanation John?"

"Really Sherlock, I swear it STILL surprises me that for a consulting detective you still fail to deduce what I mean," John let out a soft giggle, "I forget you fail to own human emotions." He teased Sherlock while poking him in his chest with his bandaged hand.

"That was a little cold" Sherlock said with a grin on his face, "and you say _I'm _the one who lacks 'human' emotions, I think you have the roles reversed Doctor Watson" Sherlock lets out teasing him and poking John's chest in return with his long index finger.

"I learned from the best." John lets out beaming, "plus three years helps y'know? I mean . . . one needs to learn to flip the switch. Y'know? With all the interviews, the people staring, rumors . . ."

He let out looking towards the lit fireplace. His face went serious, the topic went back to the past. John let out a heavy sigh as his serious face changed to a hurtful expression.

"John. . . " Sherlock let out as he reached his right hand up to John's face while reaching his other hand to grab his bandaged one, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to steal your humanity."

John let out an even heavier sigh than before, "You didn't Sherlock, 'Time' did, it stole my humanity." He realized that Sherlock's hand was still on his touching his left cheek. He suddenly felt his face getting red and heart beginning to race. John tried to brush it off and make it seem as if he wasn't nervous, which he was, but the dim room was enough to hide his flushed cheeks. A chuckle came from John, "No wonder people talk Sherlock."

"Let them." Was all the answer he gave, along with a soft smile.

How he wanted to give into his emotions. To what he was feeling. He brought his hand back down onto his stomach to think. In spite of all he was feeling, he knew it was much too soon. Just the same Sherlock wanted time to go by faster. No, he _needed _time to go by much faster. Those three years apart felt like an eternity to Sherlock. He let out a soft chuckle.

"What's so funny, _de-tec-tive. ." _John asked as he pulled a curl each time he said a syllable.

"Nothing at all." Sherlock smiled.

"Hmm. . . doesn't. . . seem. . .like. . . nothing." John said in a more playful tone, this time pulling a curl when saying each word.

"That hurts John."

"You keep evading Sherlock." John said while continuing to pull at Sherlocks curls.

Sherlock turned to look at Him, who was now staring down straight into the detective's eyes.

Sherlock let a soft smile come across his face and stated softly, "Nothing at all dear John, I just realized, I hate it too."

John tilted his head at Sherlock with a confused look he replied, "What?"

Sherlock turned away from John and back to the ceiling, but he didn't answer.

John still waited repeating himself, "What 'it' do you hate as well, Sherlock"

"Time." Was all he said as he closed his eyes and slept for the first time in almost a week.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my lord of all Sugar crumpets, Sherlock sleeps? Well at least he got some cause I sure didn't. Wrote this in the wee hours of the morning. So please forgive me for typos, weird sentencing and what not. Oh I hope you enjoy :) remember reviews are welcomed :)<strong>

**-Ron**

**Re-edited. Thanks again to Kr-Nl for helping (Check out her fic "Unravelling Sherlock")**

**Also even more thanks to these beautiful people who added me onto their author Alert:  
><strong>**Kr-NL, , Annoyedgirl, Lily and Shadow, ARTofDEDUCTION, Tabbica, LunaDragonPoet, Aquarius2282, Kleoette, thelightfantastiquen**

**Also thanks to these equally as beautiful person who added my story to their favorites:  
><strong>**Onezumi Daisuke**

**Then theres these beautiful people who did both: Kira Ferris, Paula Berryman - You guys deserve cookies - O O **


End file.
